


The Plan

by AnnieforSimonsflower



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Frottage, Heterosexual Sex, Masturbation, Not Epilogue Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-War, Public Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings, Threesome, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-05
Updated: 2009-01-05
Packaged: 2018-10-27 20:05:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieforSimonsflower/pseuds/AnnieforSimonsflower
Summary: Hermione has a plan she thinks will finally get the boys to open their eyes and see her.  However, she’s underestimated their powers of observation and their deviousness.





	The Plan

**Author's Note:**

> This story is archived on behalf of Simons_flower, who passed away in 2009, by her designated archivist.
> 
>  **Author's notes:**      For [](http://heather11483.livejournal.com/profile)[**heather11483**](http://heather11483.livejournal.com/) as part of the 2008 [](http://community.livejournal.com/smutty_claus/profile)[**smutty_claus**](http://community.livejournal.com/smutty_claus/) exchange. Her request is [here](http://community.livejournal.com/smutty_claus/97128.html?thread=1765480#t1765480).  
>       Many more thanks than I can express go to [](http://madam-minnie.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://madam-minnie.livejournal.com/)**madam_minnie** for feedback about characterization and for handholding.

** The Plan **

Despite it being ten years since Voldemort was defeated, Ron and I are still as much in the public eye as Harry. It was part of what led us to stop dating, as well as led to my break up with Harry after two months of dating. That does not mean, of course, that I've stopped having feelings for both of them, it just means dating was difficult when reporters followed us all the time. Neither does it mean I do not fantasize about them all the time -- especially the three of us together -- which is most of my problem recently.

Those two are distracting me even when they aren't around. The ironic thing? As we've become older, the more attractive Ron's mind and Harry's body have become. When we were teenagers, my attraction to Ron was, in retrospect, mostly physical, all sparks. My attraction to Harry was more to his mind, however aggravating his thought processes were and still are.

Therefore, I have a plan.

Straightening my napkin in my lap, I await Ron. Tomorrow night I'll have dinner with Harry. What happens after that I haven't entirely planned, but I have high hopes.

The waiter has been by three times before Ron finally arrives. The quality and cut of his robes have improved since joining the Auror Corps with Harry, and flatter his tall, lean build. I can't help but stare at him, but say nothing as he settles, ordering his drink as he opens the menu.

I wait even longer, until we've both ordered our meals, before commenting. "Why were you late?" I ask softly, pointing a breadstick at him.

A flush rises on his cheeks, contrasting sharply with the blue of his robes. "I was talking to Harry and lost track of the time."

I don't think he's telling the truth, his body language gives it away, but I don't press. It's not important despite my curiosity about what they discussed.

Dinner otherwise goes smoothly until dessert. When my parents decided to stay in Australia, I was hurt at first, but then began to feel much more free than I ever had been, at least in the Muggle world. Ever since then I've made it a point to savor dessert with every meal, this one being no exception: the chocolate mousse here is absolutely delicious.

Ron's eyes follow my fork to my lips, making me wonder if my plan will happen without much effort on my part.

"I have a question for you, Ron," I begin, licking a bit of mousse from the corner of my mouth. He doesn't say anything. I raise an eyebrow. "Ron?"

With a shake of his head, he raises his gaze to meet my eyes. "Yes?"

"Question for you."

He swallows, seemingly nervous. "Yes?"

"How can I get Harry to notice me?"

He pales dramatically, causing his freckles to stand out in sharp relief and leans back in his chair. "What?"

I wave my mousse-covered fork at him. "You're his best male friend, you should know the answer. How do I get Harry to notice I'm a girl?"

He stares at me and I stare back. He can figure it out. I pop the mousse-covered fork into my mouth, slowly licking it clean, smiling in my mind. Just because my attraction is more to his mind -- today -- doesn't mean I don't want his body or to tease him.

He swallows audibly and visibly. "I -- I think he already knows, Hermione," he finally manages, voice breaking at first. "I'm the one who didn't."

"So you see me as a girl now?" I lean forward just far enough that my shirt gapes open slightly.

He inhales so quickly that his nostrils narrow. Clearing his throat, he manages to say, "Yes, you're a girl."

I simper, which grates on my nerves, but is regrettably necessary for my plan. Ron doesn't seem to notice how out of character my behavior is, though, so that's a relief.

He suddenly blinks several times as if coming out of a daze. Shaking his head slightly, he asks in his Auror voice, "What's going on, Hermione?"

I try to blank my expression but I don't think it works. Beyond not being able to control my reaction to _that_ voice very well, I'm almost sure he can see right through me. The idea he can figure me out arouses me further. Voice low, I answer, "I don't know what you mean."

Narrowing his eyes, he studies me so closely that I have to resist the urge to squirm. He continues to study me for what feels like hours, those blue eyes boring into me as if he could perform Legilimency.

At last, he says, "You know perfectly well what I mean, Hermione." His interrogation technique is one I've seen him use with recalcitrant suspects, but to know he's treating me the same way is disturbing on one level, but below that is the knowledge he's trying to outsmart me. A delicate shiver races through me. He then leans back and crosses his arms over his chest, drawing his robes tight and distracting me further.

"Fine." I lean forward, and Ron does the same unconsciously. "I want Harry."

Confusion colors his features for a moment, but clears soon after as he realizes what I've said. He flushes red, then pales. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again for him to ask, "Harry? But I thought ..."

I don't dare admit the truth now, that it's both of them I want and not just Harry, because that would throw The Plan into chaos. My mind doesn't deal well with chaos.

He continues to stare for several moments until I break eye contact by looking down at my plate.

It flits through my mind that maybe I've gone about this in a completely fucked up way. I should have been more direct. I'm no good with subterfuge unless it's spontaneous.

Ron clears his throat, drawing my eyes back to his.

"Harry is clueless -- " Ron snorts at my resulting raised eyebrow " -- okay, so we're both clueless -- and you're going to have to do something over the top to make him aware of you."

I smile, hoping I haven't screwed everything up. I'll find out in a few nights.

+-+-+-+-+

Though it's a Muggle restaurant, Harry is as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. This won't do at all. I signal the waiter and, to his and Harry's surprises, order a bottle of whisky.

"I didn't know you drank whisky," Harry murmurs, leaning back in his seat. The shoulders of his suit jacket pull taut and I have to swallow once to return saliva to my mouth.

"I don't, but you do." He quirks his eyebrows up. "You're too nervous and it's giving _me_ an ulcer."

He laughs, some of the tension slipping from him. "I'll try to do better."

Two whiskies, neat, and dinner serve to relax him further. Dessert for me tonight is Death By Chocolate. Harry orders nothing.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asks after dessert is served.

"What makes you think I wanted to talk about anything?"

He smiles and I feel my heart leap into my throat again. "Because you had dinner with Ron last night and me tonight."

To still my nervous hands, I pick up my wineglass and roll it between my palms. "Can't I just have dinner with friends?"

"If that were all, we would all be eating together." He leans forward. "What is it, Hermione?"

Though I know this line of questioning won't anger or annoy Harry as it did Ron, it makes me more nervous. Harry jumps to conclusions more quickly than Ron about some things, and relationships fall into that category. I decide to just jump in since I can't mess it up any worse than I did with Ron.

"How do I get Ron to notice me as a girl?"

Harry chokes on his whisky. I do nothing, waiting him out. When he regains control, he glares at me. "What do you mean? He _knows_ you're a girl."

I give an overdramatic sigh. "But he hasn't _done_ anything about it."

He cocks his head to one side in confusion. Pushing his glasses up with one finger, he murmurs, "Should he have?"

I huff and lean back. "Yes, it would have been nice."

Harry studies me in much the same way Ron did last night, those green eyes so penetrating I briefly wonder if he's attempting Legilimency. It makes me feel like a specimen under a microscope. Though I can appreciate the use of the technique on the suspects they interrogate, I still don't appreciate its use on me.

"Maybe he was afraid you'd turn him down," Harry finally says.

I push the remnants of my dessert around with my fork as I protest, "He wouldn't have been."

"So you're saying that if Ron had said he wanted to take you to bed, you would have said yes?"

I open my mouth to reply affirmatively, but then close it upon further thought. Before the boys became so distracting to me, both together and separately, in the last six months, would I have said yes? When it was the status quo of low-level physical awareness between Ron and I and mental synergy between Harry and I, would I have fallen into bed with either -- or both?

Grumbling, I answer, "No, not exactly." Then I glare at him. "So how do I do that now?"

He grins. "Ron's been in love with you since sixth year. Give him a sign and he'll respond."

I steeple my fingers under my chin. "Sixth year? What about Lavender?"

He waves a hand dismissively. "Momentary aberration."

I laugh. I don't think Lavender would appreciate being called an _aberration_ , but it makes me feel better about that year.

"When did you become so observant?" I ask as I finish my wine.

His grin turns secretive. "I'm not nearly as unobservant as you give me credit for being."

+-+-+-+-+

That is the only warning I get from either of them.

+-+-+-+-+

I receive an invitation to a club a few nights later signed by both boys. I haven't seen or spoken to either of them since my dinner with Harry, and their absence has made me miss them even more. Two roses, both red, accompanied the invitation. I don't know if they know the language of roses or not, but the fact the roses were red gives me some hope -- even as it worries me.

The invitation also includes instructions to "dress up," though leave it to them to include nothing else. What _kind_ of dressing up is appropriate? If it is a club, I will assume a ball gown is over the top, but does it mean business professional or a little black dress?

Damn boys.

In the end, I decide to wear a little red dress that, with some support from magic, enhances my cleavage and dips to my waist via artful draping in the back. I debate for a long time about whether to wear a thong or not. After staring at the thong for twenty minutes, I decide to forgo it. I feel dirty and naughty for doing so, but that's the point or tonight, isn't it?

I slip on a pair of red heels that will put me nearly eye level with Harry. I would have to wear stilts to be eye level with Ron, so I don't ever attempt that feat. The only thing I wear below my waist is an Auror-issue wand holster strapped to my thigh, adjusted to not show below my hemline. One last check in the mirror -- and a freshening of my makeup charms -- means I'm ready and only five minutes late.

Given that the invitation has Apparition information on it, I conclude that it's either in a mixed Muggle and Wizarding area or is strictly Wizarding. I'm expecting a mixed area rather than full Wizarding given our notoriety. Memorizing the directions, I Apparate.

A wall of sound greets me, overwhelming my senses and leaving me reeling. I can't get a framework for where I am, either, because it's dark and smoky. A fine thread of panic settles under my skin.

"She's here!" Ron calls.

His voice is a relief, though I don't see him until he's right next to me, engulfing me in a brief hug. I hug him back, smiling. When he releases me, he reels me out like a tango dancer, eyeing me.

When he licks his lips, I feel mine go dry.

"Damn," he murmurs. Eyes still on me, he calls over his shoulder, "Harry, have you seen Hermione?"

Harry appears next to Ron. Once juxtaposed, I notice what they're wearing: well-worn jeans, tight t-shirts, and boots. In Ron's case, the jeans are tucked into the boots, and in Harry's, his jeans are not. Though their coloring is dramatically different, they seem almost like bookends given their attire and equally devious expressions.

Harry tucks his hands into his front pockets, drawing the denim tight across his crotch. My eyes are drawn downward, but dart right back up as I blush furiously upon seeing his erection.

_Get hold of yourself! You want both of them, so why does his erection embarrass you?_

Harry's grin is lazy, as is his glance at Ron. "I have now." He turns back to me. "I think she may have overdressed."

Ron eyes me more thoroughly this time, skimming my body so intently that his gaze feels like he's caressing me.

"But it looks good," he replies. Drawing me close again, he says, "Let's dance."

I look helplessly at Harry as Ron drags me onto the dance floor. Harry merely grins, rocking slightly on his heels. The Apparition coordinates apparently took me to a semi-private room at the back of the club -- four walls and a doorway but no door -- because Ron leads me down a short hallway before we reach the dance floor.

He pulls me close, splaying one large hand at the small of my back, after staking out a spot close to the edge of the dance floor. I can't concentrate. My _awareness_ of him feels, in some ways, like a tangible thing and I don't mean the erection I now feel pressing into my stomach.

Leaning back slightly, I look up at him. "I thought you couldn't dance."

He frowns, then ducks his head so my mouth is right next to his ear and his mouth is next to my ear. "What?"

His breath on my ear makes me shudder. I barely resist the urge to bite his earlobe. Pressing my lips to his ear, I repeat, "I thought you couldn't dance."

I feel his smile before he straightens and I can see it. "Harry taught me."

The best description for my reaction is gobsmacked. I don't notice that I've frozen in place until Ron tugs me to get me moving again.

" _Harry_ taught you?"

Ron's grin widens. "Someone at work taught him."

I sway in Ron's arms -- despite the rhythm of the song, he's holding me as close as if it was a slow song -- and ponder the possibilities. If Harry taught Ron to dance, that almost certainly means they danced with each other. The idea seems to freeze my brain and overstimulate my libido.

Ron says nothing further, waiting until one song blends into another before turning me into Harry's arms. Where Ron feels like a warm flannel blanket you snuggle into knowing it will keep you safe from the cold outside, Harry is more like a leather jacket, exotic and dangerous all at once. The contrast tingles against my skin like champagne bubbles.

Then Harry turns me so my back is plastered to his front and it's a wonder my knees hold me upright. His erection throbs against the small of my back even as his hands spread over my stomach to pull me closer yet.

"Do you like this song?" he asks, lips next to my ear.

A shudder escapes my unraveling control. I can't hear the song over the pounding of blood in my ears. I nod.

I feel his laugh more than hear it.

With the next change in the music, Harry leads me back to that semi-private room. The music isn't quite as loud here, so there must be some soundproofing, though the low throb of the bass vibrates through my feet.

"Well, Hermione?" Ron begins.

I startle. I hadn't seen Ron initially, but now he's obvious. There are two small tables, each with a dim lamp atop them. My attention, though, is riveted to what's between the tables: a mattress.

"What _is_ this place?" I breathe.

Ron turns a dial of the wall, increasing the volume of the music as Harry nuzzles my neck and murmurs, "An adult club."

"Seamus told us about it," Ron adds, crossing the room toward us.

I feel as if I've short-circuited, especially when Ron closes any distance between us, leaving me sandwiched between my boys. Harry's erection hasn't abated, and now I can feel Ron's throbbing against my stomach. The urge to roll my eyes up and faint at sensory overload is almost irresistible.

"We can do anything -- " Harry begins, whispering in my right ear.

" -- _anything_ \-- " Ron continues, whispering in my left.

" -- we want here."

I whimper, but am unable to say anything.

Needless to say, I'm shocked when each of the boys pulls back. Then, over my right shoulder, they lean forward and kiss. I'm frozen in place, though I can't identify one emotion: embarrassment, because I thought they were straight; arousal, because they look beautiful together; and anticipation just in case they _are_ (mostly) straight.

They part and I meet Ron's eyes first. They're dark with arousal, his lips slightly bruised from Harry's kiss. I can feel a flush rise on my cheeks. Harry pulls me back against him once again.

"I -- I didn't realize you were gay," I murmur as neutrally as possible.

Ron grins, briefly meeting Harry's gaze. Harry nuzzles my neck once again, pulling my hair to the side to reveal the back of my neck.

"We aren't. We figured out your plan the night after you and Harry had dinner." Once again an embarrassed flush rises on my cheeks. "Then we talked about it."

"And decided that if you wanted both of us, who are we to argue with the smartest witch of our generation?" Harry says all that in one breath, almost distracting me from Ron's hands sliding under my skirt.

"Once we figured that out," Ron says, hands sliding further up.

"We decided we had to be comfortable with each other."

My eyes, which had been half-closed in arousal, flash open. "You -- you -- you _slept together_?"

Harry laughs and Ron pauses. Another quick glance flashes between them before Ron answers, "Do mutual blow jobs count?"

It's too much. The image my mind provides of Ron lying back, gloriously naked and one freckled hand tangled in Harry's midnight-dark hair as he sucks Ron's cock tips me over into an orgasm. I shudder between them, panting and moaning softly, for several moments.

Ron, now kneeling before me, is staring up at me, wide-eyed. "Did you just _come_?"

"Yes," I rasp.

After another shared look between the boys, whatever uncertainty they may have had is gone. Harry pulls as Ron pushes my dress up. I know the moment when Ron discovers I don't have knickers on because his moan dances on my nerves, making me shudder.

"Hermione, you're a naughty girl," Ron chides.

Harry says nothing. Instead, he slides his left hand down until he reaches my clit.

Fire flashes through me and my knees go weak. I grab his arm to brace myself. My eyes slide closed when Harry shifts so his hands are holding me open for Ron. I shiver violently at the first touch of Ron's tongue.

I should have put up a stronger protest or been outraged they uncovered my plan, but I can't muster the energy. This _is_ what I wanted, after all, so why should I quibble over the details?

My head drops back onto Harry's shoulder. He takes advantage of this by possessing my mouth, ruthlessly driving his tongue inside and dueling with mine. I can feel him subtlety thrusting against me and I whimper.

I must sound like a puppy with all my whimpering.

When Harry breaks the kiss, I'm breathless.

I slowly open my eyes, startled to see someone in the doorway watching us and wanking.

"Come, Hermione," Harry growls in my ear. "Ron wants to taste you." He laughs softly, then adds, "And I want that boy to be jealous that you belong to us."

I never knew I was an exhibitionist. Ron curls his tongue around my clit again and, between that and being watched, I come undone. I arch back violently, nearly hitting Harry's nose, and tremble between my boys, panting and moaning with greater ferocity than earlier now that I'm being touched. I dig my fingernails into Harry's arm, gripping tightly. Ron stays with me until I push him away because there's too much sensation.

At the edges of my awareness, I hear the boy in the doorway come. I smile lazily, feeling powerful.

Ron straightens, pulls Harry's hands away, and allows my dress to fall. My thighs are damp from arousal and saliva, but it only makes me want more from both of them. I'm _hungry_.

"Is she to share?" the boy asks.

I feel Harry turn toward the door as he growls, "No." The boy disappears quickly at Harry's glacial tone.

"You're not a whore," Harry mutters. I say nothing, merely smile. Some people might think I'm a whore for wanting two men, but these two men don't and that's all that matters. Besides, given the nature of the club, it was a fair question.

"Time to go?" Ron asks.

"I think so," Harry answers.

Harry turns me into Ron's arms. Before I can ask what they're talking about, Ron Side-Along Apparates me.

Breathless for entirely different reasons than earlier, we arrive in what seems to be a hotel room. I whirl on Ron, skirt flaring with my turn, only to be sidetracked when Harry arrives. I narrow my eyes at them.

Harry, tucking his hands into his pockets again, turns to Ron and says, "She seems to be angry for some reason."

"You'd think coming would reduce her tension," Ron retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

Mute with impotent annoyance, I huff at them and turn again, stomping off in the opposite direction.

The hotel room is more than a mere room: it's a palatial suite. Ron brought me to the foyer. My fit of pique has brought me into the main living area, which is probably large enough to host a Hogwarts reunion. The exterior wall is made up of all windows and features a spectacular view of the London skyline. One wall is taken up by a large flat panel television and the opposite wall holds a kitchen.

I wander through another doorway knowing the boys are following me, though they're both silent. The other room is a sumptuous bedroom. The bed is massive enough for all three of us and is piled high with pillows. Atop the dresser are the boys' overnight things -- and my own! Glancing up, I meet Harry's eyes in the mirror and glare.

"We planned ahead," he says softly, crossing his arms. "So hex us."

_They knew! The bastards knew!_ Though they'd mentioned earlier that they'd figured out my plan, I hadn't really understood. Seeing my overnight things here, in this hotel room, tells me they really have planned this. Not only did they have a room ready, but it's prepared.

Ron slides behind me, wrapping his arms around me. I look up from the top of the dresser to meet his eyes. Resting his chin atop my head, he asks, "Are you angry?"

I sigh. "No. Surprised, but not angry."

From the corner of my eye, I see Harry pull off his shirt. Ron and I both turn to him. He grins wickedly. "I'd like a shower." I lick my lips when he bends to unzip his boots.

"Staring at his arse, Hermione?" Ron murmurs in my ear. I shiver. Harry glances back over his shoulder and smiles in a way that should be outlawed. "He does have a nice arse."

Another shiver rocks me at the image of Ron paying homage to Harry's arse.

Harry straightens. Ron gathers me up again, nibbling on my neck. When Harry turns and walks toward us, I lick my lips hungrily. Without a word, Harry slips me out of Ron's arms and, wrapping his arms around me, devours my mouth.

I feel myself drowning, but don't care. The sensation becomes worse when Ron's bare chest presses against my back. Between the two of them, I moan.

Breathless, I break the kiss with Harry and mutter, "Fuck."

Ron chuckles and Harry chides, "There is no need to beg."

My face flames, but I say nothing. I wasn't begging -- yet.

"I still need that shower," Harry says, releasing me. "Are you going to join me?"

"Just me?"

Harry's gaze tracks upward from mine, meeting Ron's eyes over the top of my head. A smile slowly spreads across his face. I don't know if I should worry or not.

"You can both join me," he responds, his voice pitched an octave lower. I can feel an answering tingle right down my spine. "Soon." Then he walks slowly into the bathroom and I swear he adds a sashay as he does, as if he wants my eyes to lock on his arse.

"Should I undress you now or in there?" Ron asks, startling me.

"Here," I breathe, holding my arms up.

When Ron skims his hands down my arms, I make a noise somewhere between a moan and a sigh. His fingers run down my body, not quite touching but close enough to make me squirm from anticipation. He stops when he reaches the hem of my dress. Before I can ask what he's doing, he turns us back to face the dresser and its large mirror. Holding my gaze, he straightens slightly and I hear him unzip his jeans.

I whimper.

"Lean forward," he orders. I raise an eyebrow, to which he merely crosses his arms over his chest, flexing his biceps. It's terribly cliche to say I cream myself at that, but my thighs do become uncomfortably damp.

When he raises an eyebrow, I lick my lips and lean forward, bracing my hands on the edge of the dresser, then spread my legs apart to balance myself. Ron, still holding my gaze, smirks. I'm not surprised when he uncrosses his arms so he can push his jeans down. I'm startled, though, when he doesn't remove my dress, but merely flips it over my waist.

He tests my readiness with a finger, making my eyes slide shut. He thrusts that finger into me twice before removing it. I crack one eye open, expelling my breath in a rush when I see him lick that finger clean. A smile on his lips, he uses his other hand to position his cock.

For a moment, fear streaks through me. He feels much too big to fit. Though I'm not a virgin -- though two fumbling encounters with a neighbor after sending my parents to Australia but before I joined the boys shouldn't count -- and _know_ I'll stretch to accommodate both Ron and Harry, feminine instinct wants me to push him away.

I don't say anything, though, and wait. Gripping one hip tightly, he holds himself in position as he pushes inside. I collapse onto my elbows, dropping my head to the top of the dresser, as I feel him stretch me.

He stops. "Are you okay?"

Glancing up in the general direction of his reflection, I growl, "Don't you dare stop."

He seems taken aback, but resumes his slow thrust inside. Gripping both hips, he then pulls me onto him until every inch is buried inside me. The sensations are overwhelming. Burning, both with arousal and dull pain, suffuses me. I'm _hungry_ again.

I push back, apparently startling Ron because it takes a second push back for him to get the hint. Much more slowly than I would like, he pulls out. I feel every inch and tremble. Ron shifts a hand to my lower back and presses down, forcing my arse higher but also changing the angle of his next thrust. When he's completely inside again, I feel him brush against my G-spot, sending sparks through me from head to toe and eliciting a deep moan. I cant my hips slightly and the head of his cock hits my spot again.

"Right there," I groan. My nipples are tingling painfully and I wish Ron would play with them -- but I don't dare mention it now that he's found my G-spot. "Fuck me, Ron."

He thrusts again, just once. I shudder. Another slow thrust has me tipping my head up again to glare. The glare doesn't work. He continues his slow thrusts until I am no better than a gibbering mass on the edge of orgasm.

"Damn it, Ron," I breathe.

I feel him shift, leaning forward to brace his hands on either side of my elbows. "You want me to fuck you? To just drive my cock into your soaking wet pussy until you can't take any more, then -- and only then -- letting you come?" He impatiently shoves my hair up and to one side, baring the back of my neck and my back. "To just mercilessly fuck you?" He punctuates each word with his most violent thrusts so far, hard enough to bring me up on my toes every time.

"Yes," I cry brokenly.

In response, he bites the back of my neck as he thrusts, then finds my clit and tweaks it.

I think I scream. I know he reduces me to nothing more than panting and other heavy breathing as my orgasm overwhelms me. I freeze, spasmodically clenching Ron's cock with every wave of my climax. Just as the final waves fade, Ron begins pounding into me hard and fast. I hear our skin slap together wetly even as my renewed orgasm whites out my other senses.

I'm vaguely aware of when he comes, filling me with four thrusts.

Now I really do need a shower. Will Harry be angry Ron and I did this? Or that we did it without him?

Ron collapses against my back, breathing heavily into my ear.

"Ron," I murmur. He grunts, which I take as an acknowledgment. "Is Harry going to be angry?"

Ron sighs, straightening with Herculean effort. "Are you going to hold out on him?"

I gasp. "No, of course not!" I wouldn't have enticed them both if I only meant to tease.

"The he's fine with it." I can only guess it's something they discussed, because he cuts off my next question with a deep kiss. He releases me when I whimper, then slides out of me.

"Shower," he growls. Stepping back, he pulls me upright, pulling my dress off in one tug. "Damn, you're sexy."

I blush brightly, but only smile. Protesting would be pointless and too demure. Just as Harry did, I add a little sway to my hips as I head to the shower. Upon entering the bathroom, though, I stop dead. Wanting Harry's body is still somewhat of a novelty to me and, through the clear glass doors of the shower, he's wet and naked. My brain stutters for a moment before he opens his eyes and grins at me.

"Finally," he teases, glancing between Ron and me.

"I had something to do first," Ron retorts.

Harry snorts a laugh. "I'm sure you did. Get in here, Hermione."

That breaks me from my momentary stupor. I cross the room and step daintily into the shower. Contrary to the warm-to-cold shower I expected, this one is almost too hot. I have only a moment to register that because Harry gathers me, pulling me close, and devours my mouth.

When my back hits the wall, I realize he has backed me up nearly under the spray. One arm still wrapped around me, he slides the other down my side. I moan when he thumbs my nipple and arch into his hand. I feel the vibration of his chuckle more than hear it.

He breaks the kiss to trail his mouth to my ear just as his fingers slip between my thighs. A smirk evident in his voice, he asks, "How much of this is left from Ron?"

When I first heard the term _sloppy seconds_ , the concept was faintly disgusting to me. Seeing the fire in Harry's eyes, the concept has suddenly become one of the most arousing.

"And if I said all of it?"

He drags his tongue from my ear down my neck. "I doubt _all_ of it," he replies. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here with me."

My reply is drowned by a moan as he slips two fingers inside me. My hands scrabble on his back until I'm able to grip his shoulders. He doesn't seem to mind my fingernails digging into his skin, which is even more arousing. The idea I could _mark_ him as mine makes me whimper. He kisses up my jaw to my lips, then pauses. I open my eyes, not even realizing I closed them, and meet his.

With Ron, I distantly noted that the blue of them darkened so they were no longer a burning blue. Harry's eyes, on the other hand, have lightened with his arousal, making the green of them searing. Still holding my gaze, he pulls one of my legs onto his hip teases me with his cock, rubbing against my clit and nearly slipping inside, but shifting away at the last moment. I tighten my grip on his shoulders and moan futilely.

He turns us slightly so I'm not flush against the wall, but in the stream of water. I feel it run in rivulets through my hair, down my face and chest, then down further to where we're joined. Closing my eyes, I tip my head back. Harry nips my neck with his teeth, easing my other leg around his waist at the same time.

The head of his cock nuzzles against me, nearly slipping inside, but still mainly teasing me. I shudder, nipples hardening in arousal. Digging my fingernails into his shoulders, I rasp, "Fuck me, Harry."

He stills. I don't open my eyes, but I can guess that my language surprises him. I open my mouth to ask, but devolve into a moan as he grips my hips and finally eases inside. Where Ron was large and relentless, Harry is smaller but longer. He shifts me slightly to lengthen my sheath and only then can bury himself completely inside me. Fire licks through me, only moderately cooled by the shower.

Then the water turns icy. I distantly hear Harry curse Ron over my own surprised scream, but the majority of my attention is taken by my gasping and wriggling in Harry's arms as I try to straighten and to get out of the water. Instead, Harry presses me back to the wall, grabs my hands to pin them next to my head, and mercilessly drives into me.

The almost simultaneous change in sensations is too much. Arching against Harry, I clench tightly around his cock and come. He bends his head and sucks on my nipples, driving me higher. Surprisingly, he's able to hold out until the last of my orgasm fades, pounding into me hard enough for me to bang my head against the tile once.

Releasing my hands so he can pry my legs from his hips, he drops his head to my shoulder, panting.

"Good show," Ron comments.

"You're a bastard, Ron," Harry mutters without moving.

"That may be, but you liked it."

Harry finally moves, turning to glare at Ron, whose grin merely widens in response. I'm close to collapse -- my legs feel like rubber -- and say nothing. I'm amused to see the boys snipe at each other. Their banter reminds me of our early school days despite the fact it was me sniping at Ron most of the time.

"She needs a bed," Harry says, sharply snapping the shower off.

The moment he steps out of the way, Ron bends down and picks me up. I curl into his arms like a kitten, smiling at Harry. Harry blinks, sighs, then grabs a handful of towels and follows us.

I had expected to be laid out on the bed, so it therefore comes as a surprise when Ron stands me next to the bed. When the first towel is wrapped around me, I understand. Once most of the water is gone, the rubs and pats become much more sensual. I close my eyes, moaning softly.

"Are you tired, Hermione?" Ron asks when I sway.

I slip my eyes open. Smiling shyly, though there is no reason to be shy now, I reply, "A bit."

"Do you want to rest some before we continue?"

Closing my eyes again, I nod. I thought I could do this, but after such mind-blowing orgasms, my bones are jelly and I'm exhausted. I gasp when I'm lifted again, then all but purr when I feel myself slid between sheets. The bed dips on either side and I know Ron's on one side while Harry is on the other. Reaching over my head, I arch my back and stretch.

"Is there something you'd like?" Harry whispers in my ear.

Grinning, I straighten, open my eyes, and take both of them in as they kneel on either side, Ron on my right, Harry on my left. "I'd like to see you kiss."

I feel the slight jerk from Ron, apparently more startled than Harry. _Interesting_. Harry, though, has a bemused smile on his face as he looks down at me. When he shifts to Ron, however, the smile fades. The only way I can describe the way he's looking at Ron is feral.

Without a word, they lean into each other over me. Harry shifts to brace his weight on one hand and both knees, freeing the other hand to tangle in Ron's hair, pulling him close. Ron leans forward, both hands against my side on the mattress.

Then they kiss.

I feel suddenly breathless as I watch their tongues meet and duel. Though it's not something I'd expected before they shared the tidbit about their talk going further than they'd planned, the fact they are comfortable with each other is a massive bonus in my favor.

Ron breaks the kiss, leaving Harry's hand to slip from the back of his head to my stomach, and leans back on his heels. Glancing down at me, he murmurs, "Is that what you were looking for?"

"Mmm, yes," I purr. "But now I need a nap."

"So the double penetration ..." Harry begins.

"And the light bondage ..."

"... and using that balcony ..."

"... and the spa tub ..."

"... will just have to wait?"

I blink at the two of them, gaze shifting between their unholy expressions. For a brief moment, I worry that it's not Ron and Harry here but George and the spirit of Fred. Then their words sink in.

"Oh," I moan, a delicate tremor rocking me from head to toe. "Definitely will be doing that later."

"Thought so," Ron says softly, slipping completely under the sheet and spooning behind me. He wraps one arm around my waist and slips a foot between mine.

Harry lays on his side, facing us, then moves closer to sandwich me between the two of them. I can feel their half-erect cocks, each twitching slightly with their heartbeats. Though I can feel my own arousal building, I quash it for the moment. The smell of sex isn't as strong as it would have been had we not been in the shower, but there is still some scent there. It's maddening, toying with the edges of my awareness and keeping me buzzing like a high-powered electric line.

"Hermione, did your plan work?" Harry murmurs just as I'm nearly asleep.

"Hmm?"

"Your plan."

Slitting my eyes open, I glare at him. "Even if I had a plan, I wouldn't admit it."

He hugs me briefly, grinning widely. Then Ron pulls me back against himself. "Nap, Hermione."

"Very well," I mutter with a pout. Then, yawning, I close my eyes between my boys and smile.


End file.
